


In This World Or The One Below

by red_starshine



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boats and Ships, Gen, Hurricanes & Typhoons, Magic, Pirates, Storms, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9264344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_starshine/pseuds/red_starshine
Summary: Before she married Edward’s father, Linette Kenway had been a Constantine - a strange family touched by madness and magic.





	

Before she married Edward’s father, Linette Kenway had been a Constantine - a strange family touched by madness and magic. She had seemed more than ready to toss the name aside after she’d wed Bernard and adopted the Kenway name. Edward had never met his mother’s brother or her parents, and she didn’t talk about them much, if at all when he was growing up. What Edward knew of the Constantine family were only the whispers and rumors he heard from others - that powerful magic ran through their veins, of the soldier who had been cursed to live forever and buried alive, the scoundrel magician who had died in a churchyard and had his soul damned to Hell forever, of the mad King who had ruled England over a thousand years ago.

They sounded like tall tales, but as a child Edward found himself wanting to meet at least one of the Constantines to see if any of the stories had a scrap of truth to them. Perhaps the magic the Constantine family was known for had touched him as well, giving him his strange heightened sense.

Then Edward had left his home and wife behind to make a name for himself, which had somehow ended up with him becoming captain of a fine pirate ship, the Jackdaw. The Constantine name meant very little to him as an adult - it had no bearing on either of his lives: the son and husband, or the pirate captain.

Until he found a strangely dressed blond man lying unconscious on the deck of the Jackdaw in the middle of a storm.

While the crew scurried around him to prepare for the storm, Edward eyed the man’s clothing: he wore a thin tan greatcoat with a belt and some sort of odd-looking black cravat around his neck.

Edward had never seen this man on board the Jackdaw before, which meant that he had probably snuck on board the last time the ship had been in port. Ordinarily, Edward would’ve tossed the stowaway over the side to let the storm deal with him, but he stopped.

Something about this didn’t make sense. The Jackdaw had left Nassau ten days ago, and someone who’d managed to evade getting caught by the crew for ten days despite being dressed like that wouldn’t just take a nap in the middle of the deck during a storm.

It was a puzzle, and Edward wouldn’t discover the answer to it if he just killed the man outright.

He still drew one sword, just in case. A shame the powder in his pistols was too damp to be fired.

“Mate,” Edward prodded the man with his boot, the cutlass only inches away from the man’s stomach. “Get up.”

The man’s eyes snapped open, and he twisted around, away from Edward’s boot. The man stared at Edward’s boot, then at the rainwater dripping from Edward’s sword, and then slowly tilted his neck back to stare up at Edward’s face blearily.

“What the bloody hell?” said the man, and Edward raised an eyebrow at that. The accent was different – from somewhere in England, not Wales – but the voice was eerily similar to his.

As the man shakily stood to his feet, apparently not used to the pitch and roll of a ship at sea during a violent storm, Edward began to take notice of other similarities. The color of the man’s hair was the same shade of gold as his own, and while the man was shorter and more lean than Edward, he held himself in a similarly defiant manner. It was difficult for Edward to pinpoint the other man’s age - the man had small creases around his eyes and mouth, but his skin was pale and undamaged by constant exposure to the elements.

Then the man did something Edward hadn’t expected. Both his hands burst into flames as he took a step back, and he thrust out one burning hand towards Edward, like he expected the flames to protect him from an attack. Oddly, despite the heat Edward could feel emanating from him, the fire didn’t seem to burn the man's skin. As Edward watched, the flames resolved themselves into concentric rings, dotted with symbols of a language Edward didn’t know until the man had two shields made out of fire in front of him.

For a tense moment, the two of them were silent, staring at each other. The crew on deck hadn’t seemed to notice or particularly care that their captain had drawn his sword against a strange man who apparently could summon magical fire, too busy trying to secure the cannons to the deck.

“I’m Edward Kenway, captain of the Jackdaw,” Edward called over the sound of the crashing waves, still holding the cutlass towards the man. “Might I ask your name?” he said dryly.

The man hesitated for a moment. “John Constantine.”

Edward lowered the cutlass. “You’re a Constantine?” he said in surprise. It would explain quite a bit.

John scowled, dropping his guard slightly. “Mate, I just said I was,” he said crossly. “D’ya want me to say it again?"

Edward chuckled, even as thunder rumbled ominously overhead. “Fair enough. What are you doing on my ship then, John? You’ve picked a hell of a time to come aboard.”

“Oh, me? Just passing through,” said John with an air of forced lightness. “Don’t worry, with any luck I’ll be gone in a few minutes.” He made a pained face, his hands trembling from the effort of maintaining the magic. “I’m gonna put these out,” he said, raising the strange rings of fire slightly. “Don’t run me through with that sword of yours, all right?”

After a long moment, Edward slid his sword back into his belt. “Aye.”

John watched him warily and gave a quick nod when Edward made no move to grab any of the other weapons strapped to his person. John clenched his fists and the fire was extinguished in both of his hands.

“My mother was a Constantine,” said Edward finally. “She never spoke much of her family. Are they all like you?”

The man rolled his eyes. “Can they do magic, you mean? Nope, sorry. Only the unlucky ones.” He eyed the flintlock pistols strapped to Edward’s bandolier and the leather padding attached to his stolen robe with distaste. “Christ. What year is this?”

“1716. Why d’ya ask?”

Instead of answering him, John began to loudly let out a string of creative obscenities.

“Not the answer you were expecting, aye?” said Edward. He had never heard stories of a Constantine traveling through time before, but if John was capable of magic, it didn't seem very difficult to believe he knew how to manipulate time.

“No, it fucking well isn’t,” said John, looking as annoyed as a half-drowned cat. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, and then spun around as a powerful gust of wind tore into the Jackdaw, apparently realizing for the first time the danger the ship was in.

The ship rolled on the wild waves underneath them, among heavy rain and bolts of lightening. The rain came down in sheets, making it next to impossible to see from one end of the deck to the other. John clung to one of the cannons, which had been strapped down to the deck, to keep his balance as the ship rocked violently in the storm. The sky overhead was black, clouds blotting out the sun until it nearly dark as night.

Edward turned around as a wave crested above the bow of the Jackdaw, the crew running on the slippery deck for the other end of the ship.

“Brace yourselves, lads!” Edward shouted to his crew on deck. Without thinking, Edward grabbed John under one arm and with the other clung to the rigging nearby as the wave crashed over the deck. John at least had the presence of mind to take a deep breath before the water rushed over their heads. Edward angled himself so his back would take the brunt of the wave’s force, covering John with his own body.

“Bloody hell,” gasped John as the water receded. He looked up at Edward in shock, both of them completely drenched in seawater. 

“You’ve never been on a ship like this before, have you?” said Edward.

“Waterspout!” Adéwalé called from the ship’s wheel before John could answer.

Edward glanced around the Jackdaw. Multiple funnels of seawater that reached up for the black sky surrounded the ship. If the Jackdaw got too close to one of them, they’d rip the brig apart.

Now it was Edward’s turn to swear furiously. He turned from John and bolted for the Jackdaw’s stern, knowing without looking over his shoulder that John was following close behind him.

Adéwalé, the Jackdaw's quartermaster, stared at Edward and John as they ran up the slippery steps towards the ship’s wheel. Adéwalé eyed John with clear confusion. “Captain, who is this man?”

“John Constantine. Haven’t the time to explain, Adé! I’ll take over,” shouted Edward. Adéwalé stepped aside from the wheel, allowing Edward to take control of the Jackdaw. Adéwalé and John moved to stand on either side of him, both of them holding onto the railing as the ship was tossed on the waves.

“Captain has the helm,” Adéwalé shouted.

The Jackdaw shuddered violently in the storm, waves pounding against its hull. Edward ground his teeth and did his best to steer the ship through the storm. He didn’t know how much more punishment the brig could withstand before it tore to pieces.

“Lads, we are not going to die today!” Edward shouted to his remaining crewhands on deck. Most of the Jackdaw’s crew were below deck, manning the pumps. Too much water trapped below decks would sink the ship, just as a rogue wave or waterspout would.

Edward felt something on his belt shift slightly, and glanced at John, who now held Edward’s short knife in one hand.

John dropped to his knees, one hand still gripping the railing, and used the tip of the knife to scratch something into the wood of the deck. He blinked furiously as the seawater and rain dripped into his eyes, muttering something that sounded like Latin under his breath.

“ _Jaysus_. John, what in Hell do you think you’re doing?” shouted Edward, navigating the brig through the maze of waterspouts and crashing waves, acutely aware that the Jackdaw could be destroyed at any moment.

“Trying to save your goddamn ship and all our asses!” John shouted back, furiously carving a ring of strange symbols into the deck around him.

The bow of the Jackdaw tilted up sharply as Edward spun the wheel to avoid the nearest waterspout, and several of the crewmen not clinging onto the masts or rigging slid down the slippery deck towards the stern of the ship before Edward could shout a warning.

The storm was getting stronger with each passing second.

“I call upon the spirits of the sea, sky, and wind!” John yelled into the howling storm like a madman, his voice raw. He sliced the knife across the palm of his hand in one quick, practiced movement, barely flinching. “Hear my plea! Grant the lost souls aboard this ship your favour!” Blood welling from the cut he’d made, he slammed his hand down on the carved sigils. “ _Spiritus nos protegat!_ ” John shouted at the top of his lungs.

A bright flare of light momentarily blinded Edward, and for an instant he thought John, the damned fool, had managed to get himself struck by a bolt of lightning. When the light faded, Edward, John and Adéwalé were standing inside a ring of glowing sigils that slowly rippled and spun underneath their feet like a living creature. It had grown larger and more intricate than the circle John had carved into the wood, now taking up most of the raised platform of the Jackdaw’s stern.

Edward’s focus narrowed abruptly, his heightened sense coming forth with an ease he’d never felt before, fueled by John’s magic. Edward heard Adéwalé give a quiet gasp beside him and knew that John’s magic was affecting him as well. Almost instantly it became easier for Edward to steer the brig, even as the hurricane continued to rage around them. For him, the rain became slightly less fierce, the waves less troubled. He could see how to steer this ship out of the hurricane.

Next to Edward, John let out a quick exhale of breath in relief. “It bloody worked.”

“What did you do?” Adéwalé said to John, staring down at the glowing sigil.

“Just a simple spell,” said John. “It won’t make your ship fly, but it should be enough to keep the storm from ripping it into tiny pieces. Hopefully.”

Edward couldn’t help but let out a shout of excitement. Despite what John had said, the Jackdaw practically flew through the choppy water, escaping from the hurricane’s path. When sunlight began to filter through the clouds again and the water quieted, a loud cheer began to run through the crew, both those on and below deck.

Against impossible odds, the Jackdaw had survived the hurricane almost completely unscathed.

Edward grinned. He glanced at John, and then realized with a start that the man was becoming translucent, like a mirage. The ropes and barrels behind him were clearly visible through his strange tan greatcoat. “John?”

John shrugged. He gave Edward and Adéwalé an almost wistful smile. “I did say I wouldn’t be here long.” He held out the knife he’d taken from Edward’s belt hilt-first. “Here you are, Eddie. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Edward shook his head. “Keep it, if you can,” said he, gently pushing the knife towards John.

John glanced down at the knife, looking at the small raven's skull engraved on the hilt. In his hands, it appeared only slightly more opaque than John himself did at the moment. “Good point. I have no idea if I’ll be able to take it with me. Well, let’s find out.” The knife disappeared into a pocket sewn into the lining of John’s coat.

Edward smiled, clapping his hand on John’s shoulder. “Mate, you helped save my ship and my crew. You have my gratitude for that. Good luck to you.”

John grinned back, just barely visible now. “Ta, Eddie. See you on the other side.”

With that, John disappeared. The sigils fell dark a moment later, leaving no marks behind on the wood. Edward felt a momentary twinge of pain in his head as the magic that had aided his heightened sense was cut off, and his sight returned to normal.

Edward’s knife was gone as well.

“Captain?” Adéwalé spoke a moment later. “I cannot help but feel that there was more to what just happened than what I saw.”

Edward rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Aye. Not sure I can explain it, Adé. It's a strange tale.”

Adéwalé smirked at him slightly, patting him on the back. “Then try your best, Captain. I have faith in you.”

"All right," Edward sighed, steering the Jackdaw in calm waters. “Before she married, my mother was born a Constantine...”

* * *

_“Okay, hang on a second. So that’s ‘one puzzle box with demon sealed inside.’ Got it. What about this thing - some sort of dagger with sand in the handle?”_

_“It's a magic time-traveling dagger.”_

_“...you’re not serious.”_

_“Chas, the last time I tried to catalogue Jasper's collection, the damn thing took me to a pirate ship in the Bahamas three hundred years ago. I am completely serious. Put it down as ‘one time-traveling dagger’ and let’s get on to the next one, shall we?”_

_"Huh. Is that where you got that weird-looking knife in your room? Wondered where that came from. The skull on the hilt seemed a little over the top for you."_

_"Chas, we're moving on."_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because I had a headcanon that Edward Kenway was related to the Constantine family due to the Matt Ryan connection and the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I am fudging things a little bit to fit the story, but I did try to keep the anachronisms to a minimum. I probably should add that I know next to nothing about ships.
> 
> If it wasn't clear, the 'magic time traveling dagger' that got John into this mess is supposed to be the Dagger of Time from the 'Prince of Persia' video games. Again, taking some liberties. (The puzzle box with a trapped demon inside is a not-so-subtle reference to the Hellraiser movies.)
> 
> I'm not quite sure why I seem to be only writing crossovers at the moment. Oh well.


End file.
